


Six Letters

by lalazee



Series: Roy/Ed Week 2020 [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Edward Elric, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Car Sex, Edward Elric Keeps Automail, M/M, Post-Canon, Seduction, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalazee/pseuds/lalazee
Summary: “And,” Roy says slowly, weighing every word as he makes a point to release Ed’s shirt and recline into his own seat like someone who isn’t actively in this very moment, on fire, “what exactly is this deal you’re referencing? I’m not yet acquainted with the finer details.”“The deal is,” Ed says, leaning in with all the brazen confidence of someone who has learned exactly what his body can do, his lion eyes blazing with predatory intelligence, “I leave you physically, mentally, and emotionally unable to ignore me ever again. And then you make my teenage dreams come true. Sound good,sir?”Roy is going to die tonight and for once he just might be amenable.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Series: Roy/Ed Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056500
Comments: 12
Kudos: 261
Collections: Roy/Ed Week 2020





	Six Letters

**Author's Note:**

> God I love Roy/Ed Week. This prompt was COLD. Enjoy some smut!

Some people fill a space with their personality. Ed fills a five mile perimeter without opening his mouth. 

Before he’d grown into himself, before he’d had a full body and the command of confidence he now carries as a young adult—before all of that, Ed still dictated the laws of physics more than any alchemist could dream. Simply by _being_.

Three hours into a stake-out stuck in a cold car, weathering a rampant late autumn deluge with the infamous Edward Elric beside him after five years apart is a stark reminder why Roy has opted so long to keep Ed annoyed and consistently out of his hair as much as possible.

Like the laws of physics dictate the environment around Roy and, conversely, his experience of his outer and inner world, so does Ed. Now, however, he is full-grown, full of ire at their continued containment, and fully, unadulteratedly beautiful. 

Roy should have expected that last part, but as an increasingly busy man climbing the ranks, he has since attempted to keep the elder Elric out of his lingering thoughts, lest he grow into a morose old man before his time. He really doesn’t want wrinkles or grey hair because of Ed, but it’s slowly becoming a certainty.

Fighting a shiver, Roy mutes a sigh and continues his crossword puzzle in the stagnant silence of the car. He recognizes how badly the both of them want to turn the engine and run the heat, but they equally understand that is out of the question. They are one of three cars parked down the block, watching one specific building of ill-repute, and there is no question that they cannot be clocked. 

However, it turns out the both of them are still idiots after all of these years, because they both chose to wear their usual clothes without a single thought for the incoming winter weather ransacking the world outside their tiny, protective shell. This is the kind of rain that will freeze to ice by morning, coating cars and streets in thick, indelible sheets. Vaguely, Roy hopes that by the end of the evening, they’ll still be able to open the car door before it solidly freezes shut.

Ed huffs and shifts beside him, bringing one bulky, multi-strapped boot up to prop upon the dashboard. Roy doesn’t know if he’s doing it on purpose to be disrespectful for the government-issued automobile or if he’s just antsy, but Roy doesn’t look directly at the motion, only pencils another word into the maze of empty boxes across the newspaper. 

“A cold that last a long time,” Roy drawls into the tight, thin layers of ice built up between them. “Six letters.”

“Frigid.”

“No.”

“Wintry.”

“Nope.”

“Arctic.”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Ed huffs and folds, then refolds his arms across his chest, his winter-pale fingers flexing, no doubt searching for the warmth of seasons gone by. Of times between them gone by. 

Roy licks his chapped lips and resolutely stares at the puzzle on the paper and not the puzzle to his right. One of them is far more complicated and won't react well to wild suppositions being thrown his way. 

“A cold that lasts a long time,” Roy repeats.

“Feels about right,” Ed mutters, shifting his body away from Roy’s to press his temple upon the sodden window. The chatter of rain on the roof of the car speaks more than the two of them have in years. Their cold has lasted a long time, too. What would one call that?

Roy doesn't rise to the bait. He isn't even sure if Ed is baiting him anymore. The layers of Ed include a raw, unfinished emotional surface built upon fortifications of steel and complex safes. He may run his mouth, but he rarely chooses to reveal more about himself. Most people don't know the complex combinations to Ed’s locks.

Roy had once had a skeleton key, but he’d tossed that away before he’d had a chance to do anything but abuse the privilege.

But Ed had been so _young_ and Roy had been so. . .

Susceptible. To all things Ed. Dangerously so.

With Ed staring out the opposite window watching the raindrops race, Roy finally has space to stare. Stealing a sidelong glance, Roy’s gaze lingers on the strong, stern lines of Ed’s profile in the watery grey evening light. Individually, his features are strong, almost severe with that squared-off jaw and straight nose, the wide mouth twisted in a scowl, expressive eyebrows knitted tight. His face is that of a warrior; a visage one would see in a painting wearing blood for warpaint, bountiful hair wildly braided through with beads of gold and bone, eyes glinting like a feral wildcat. 

Yet altogether, those features puzzled into place, Roy is overwhelmed by Edward Elric’s beauty. In his teens he’d been young and lithe and blistering with electric energy. Now it's all contained behind the eyes, a radiance from the inside out that Roy has to wonder coincides with his abilities granted from The Gate or simply the inherent growth of Ed into a man. Either way, he is stunning. Breathtaking in a way people with brains like his shouldn’t be gifted. The entire package is barely contained, like Ed is merely waiting for the moment to go supernova and swallow them all in his brilliance.

And Roy is waxing poetic enough to make even himself roll his eyes. Resolutely, he returns his attention back to the crossword. 

Briefly, though, he wonders what Ed saw when he looked at Roy again. After years travelling the far reaches of the world, Roy has to admit that Ed’s bar for being impressed must be undoubtedly high. Is Roy just a tired old man in a big fancy chair in the government building of Ed’s eternal dread and night terrors? Or does more remain between them, long frozen in a lonely stasis of waiting? 

Roy can't know. As he had spent ages sending Ed off on adventures and ignoring the hell out of him, so has Ed seemed to implement a similar technique upon returning to Central. Avoidance is a powerful craft to master, and both Roy and Ed are notable overachievers. 

“Ice age,” Ed murmurs.

“What?” Roy realizes he hasn't stopped staring at Ed at all, because when Ed glances over, their gazes sear together in a hot, sudden hold.

“Ice age,” Ed enunciates, and _heaven help him_ , even Ed’s teeth are tempting. “A long-lasting cold.”

“Oh,” Roy says, because he is clearly an eloquent gentleman of the world like that. “Right. That fits.”

“Sure does.”

“Something to say, Fullmetal?” Roy smoothly replies before he can hold back. Boy, he is out of practice with Ed. 

“Do _you_?” Ed shoots back, his unwavering stare going molten, the rain that dapples the windshield streaking like tears down his cheeks. 

“Should I?” Roy counters, his mouth curving without humor, his blood warming to whatever is simmering beneath the surface.

“I dunno, Mustang. You always have something to say about every damn thing, but you’ve been awfully quiet since I got back. You’re not interested in _catching up_?” Ed says the final words like tart poison on his tongue, his face twisted in a feral, equally humorless smile to match Roy’s.

 _Ah, there you are._ There is that mouth. Whether firing barbs or benevolence, Roy will much rather find himself in their crossfire rather than the deadened ceasefire to which they’d clung for years. 

“Edward,” Roy begins carefully, slowly folding the newspaper.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Ed snaps, looking dead ahead, his profile beautiful and stony in turn. “Don’t talk to me like that. Forget I said anything. Forget I’m here.”

“What am I talking like?” Roy says, placing a cold hand on the stick shift between them like a tentative step forward. Since Ed’s return, every word between them has felt like walking on dangerously thin ice. What lurks below in deep, darkened depths is too great to address in a small space such as this. Between the two of them, they may well have created a leviathan. “Ed, what’s the problem? Talk to me. I know we haven’t seen each other in an ice age—” _since I threw your hope back in your face and sent you metaphorically and physically packing_ “—but we are here now. Reunited. I would listen.”

“Oh, how very fucking _gracious_ you are.” Those lion eyes are back on him now, and yes, let that feral nature leap across the ice and take Roy by the throat. Maybe the right words will finally spill forth and warm them both like so much blood. “What a paragon of virtue and kindness. I am truly inspired to follow your lead.”

Roy sighs.

“Ed—”

“When I say don’t _talk to me_ like that—” And Ed is launching across the car, his hot breath coloring the air between them in white puffs as he jams a firm finger into Roy’s chest, right over his skittering heart. They have never been closer except for that final day. “When I say don’t talk to me like that, I’m telling you not to talk to me like I’m still sixteen, for fuck’s sake! You’re not my _superior_ , Mustang, and I’m no longer entrusted to you like the government’s best party trick. I’m nobody’s but _mine_ , so talk to me like you would another man or so help me, I will turn your tongue to metal so I never have to hear another word from your smug, snarky—”

“Ed.” Roy takes Ed’s wrist before he can consider better, and Ed’s bones are sturdy and thicker than his own, his pulse a wild war tattoo against Roy’s fingertips. “Edward. I had assumed you'd figured what happened between us that day. Do you—did you never?”

Ed’s gaze is frantically skipping between Roy’s hold on him, Roy’s mouth, and Roy’s eyes, and then back, as if he doesn’t understand how he ended up stretched across the car and leaning into Roy’s body. He is utterly still, flushed lips faintly parted in words that won’t seem to come as he mutely shakes his head.

Roy realizes he’s simply staring, admiring the pale crescent of Ed's lashes painted in shadow, the faint tilt of those feline eyes, the high arch of shapely eyebrows. Ed was a picture before, but he is art now, and Roy is so impossibly bad at ignoring beautiful things. Moreso when they are beautiful from the inside out. 

“I have always seen you as a man,” Roy croaks, unsure of where his voice has gone. Perhaps Ed really does have him by the throat. “That was _always_ the problem.”

“ _What_ ,” Ed says. It’s less a question and more an acerbic statement, brittle and tart. Ed doesn’t move. If anything, his considerable weight in pushing Roy further back into his unforgivably uncomfortable seat. 

The ice here is paper thin. Roy doesn’t know what’s waiting beneath and he is aware just how unprepared he is when it comes to all things Edward Elric. The illusion of authority can only stretch so far. 

“I offered myself to you,” Ed whispers, not softly but like sandpaper, like glass, like an accusation that gleams in his eyes, livid and predatory. “You brushed me off like a fly. Like lint off your pristine uniform, you smug bastard.”

Roy remembers. Of course he remembers, in livid technicolor clarity. A sixteen year old Ed, healthy and electric and gilded in gold rounding Roy’s hulking desk to sit upon it, one hulking black boot propped upon Roy’s chair, directly between his thighs. The late afternoon light from the window behind Roy’s head had soaked Ed’s stubborn, stunning features in shades of fire as Ed had placed a steadying hand on Roy’s shoulder and leaned in, lowered eyelashes catching the sun like sparks. 

Ed had been all blooming confidence in his body and his mind, so powerful in personality that it nearly tore at the seams of his clothes, of shoulders growing wider, legs longer, thighs thicker. Roy had been drawn in, prey tempted by watchful eyes, sharp wit, and wisdom beyond years. He had gravitated into Ed’s space, their lips a whisper away before he’d opened his eyes and seen the raw nerves in Ed’s sweet, young face.

“Oh, Edward.” Melting in the wake of Ed’s hot, direct stare, Roy releases his hold to bring both hands up and cup Ed’s face. His cheeks are warm, warmer than expected in the frigid environment of the car. The strong line of his jaw is sharp in his hands, like holding something capable of cutting Roy to shreds. Ed’s gaze has grown wide and the rain roars and thunders upon the roof. The adrenaline burning through Roy’s blood makes Roy’s palms shake, just a little. He takes a breath and so does Ed, reflexive imitation. “Neither of us were ready. Not in any ways that could have lasted. I merely saw it clearer than you. Barely.”

“ _Liar_.” Ed is still whispering, still accusing. “You’re _lying_. I may have been young, but I was never stupid. And _you_. . .you were—you were the only person I would have stayed for. Roy.”

The words are a steel-toed kick to the gut, no alchemy stronger than that of their chemistry to knock Roy off his feet and send him reeling. Roy’s chest caves in at the same time the ice splinters and parts beneath his feet. The plunge isn’t cold. It is searing. 

“And I would have made you stay,” Roy says, breathing a shaky laugh at the weak sound of his own voice, shifting a hand to dive fingers in Ed’s silken, loose braid, his other palm cradling Ed’s face, his thumb sweeping the frown at the corner of Ed’s lips. “After all that time sending you away, I would have made you stay. We both know how human I am, Ed. Flawed and greedy and jealous. I always want more, I always wanted—I wanted—”

“ _Me_ ,” Ed says, because he’s fearless in ways Roy will never be. Ed’s heart is gold and Roy’s will always, always be flesh. “You wanted me. I know, I saw it. And now? What about now? When I look at you I can barely see anything at all.”

“At least I’m getting better at deception,” Roy says, smiling wanly as he cups Ed’s nape and softly squeezes. Everything about Ed is sturdy and warm and somehow pure despite all the muck and the mire Ed has waded through in his life. He is miraculous, really. 

“Roy,” Ed hisses, shifting with obvious discomfort from his awkward lean across the stick shift. “Be fuckin’ _straight_ with me for once.”

“I could make a very amusement observation on—”

“I’m this close to opening your door and shoving you into the goddamn street if you don’t—”

“I very much,” Roy murmurs, unsure with the strength of his own voice as he meets Ed’s eyes, “would like to keep you, Edward. If you’d be amenable to the attempt.”

A beat of silence, Ed likely searching Roy’s expression for veracity, before he shakily exhales, the lines of his handsome face softening, the curve of his generous mouth lilting. 

“That’s as good an answer as I’m gonna get from you, isn’t it.”

Roy doesn’t have a chance to reply because those lips are on his, less in a meeting and more in conquering, a storming of Roy’s senses as Ed grunts into Roy’s mouth and lofts his leg over Roy’s thighs to straddle his lap. The entire thing happens so fast that Roy can only wrap an arm around that slim, strong waist and yank Ed in close. The heat from Ed is palpable, radiant, and Roy grips Ed’s braid and sinks in. 

Ed groans, rolling his hips against Roy with such instant, electric enthusiasm that Roy is struck dumb, thoughtless and basic, clinging to Ed’s powerhouse body and marveling how he could have waited so long when Ed can tear into him like this and leave him shaking from a single frenzied kiss. It’s been so long since anyone has made him feel anything like hunger, like a need that goes beyond satiation, like Roy can trust another person to give it to him; the effect is dizzying and Roy reels with the realization that Ed has always given so much to everyone and everything, so why not this.

Ed breathes hot, humid life into Roy’s mouth as they part but keeps an iron grip on the lapels of Roy’s coat, holding them close, intimately into each other’s space so they can barely speak for their lips brushing. 

“You’ve made me a wait a hell of a long time,” Ed says, the rasp of his voice and insistent weight of his ass upon Roy’s thighs both playing part in Roy’s dissolving cognitive abilities.

“An ice age,” Roy breathes out, hand skimming the curve of Ed’s spine.

“I hope you don’t think there’s any way to stop me now.”

“An Elric is an unstoppable force. Recent addition to the laws of physics. Thought you should know.”

Ed’s smile warms Roy to the bones.

“And here I’d been thinking you’d gotten slow in your winter years.”

“ _Winter_? I’m practically a spri—”

“Shut up,” Ed says, his smiling mouth taking the plunge against Roy’s parted lips. 

A part of Roy wants to take his time; wants to leisurely explore the hard and soft spans of Ed’s silver-and-gold frame, to marvel as one would a cathedral built entirely for worship and inspiration and specific purpose in this world. But Ed is purposeful in a way that’s more like a bullet, and he shoots through Roy’s wonder with avid hands, both hot and cold, with a hothouse humid mouth and an ass that has plagued Roy’s prayers for half a decade. 

Ed is all muscle and movement atop his lap, the latter somewhat a marvel considering the cramped space and the way Ed has to loom over and around him like an incoming storm that changes the atmosphere in the car to snapping ozone and unlimited power. 

When Ed locks his clever mouth to the crook of his neck and frantically works at the buttons of his shirt, Roy briefly hallucinates the bright blue sparks of Ed’s alchemical energy crackling between them. Because this feeling, this sudden rampant swell of power between them, it barely feels natural. Roy can hardly keep a grasp on reality, if that’s really what this is. 

“Edward,” Roy manages, swallowing hard and giving in to the need—not want, _need_ —to cup Ed’s ass in his hands and knead that beautiful swell of muscle, “Ed, Ed, this probably isn’t the best—this isn’t the most ingenious idea we’ve ever pulled off in the history of us.”

“The history of us sucks ass,” Ed growls into Roy’s ear, his teeth grazing the cartilage and shrieking sparks under Roy’s skin. “Touch me.”

“I am. And it does. Suck, that is.” Wow, Roy’s mouth is truly a miracle to modern man. Ingenious mode of communication. “But perhaps this is—”

“I’ll blow you now,” Ed says, sliding his flesh hand down between them to firmly palm Roy’s considerable, betraying bulge within his trousers, “if you fuck me later. You got three seconds to decide.”

“This—this—” Oh shit, _shit_ , Roy’s brain is fried, he’s overheating, the gears are racing too fast and kicking up dust and steaming out of his ears. “This isn’t—”

“One.” Ed rises upon his knees, his high ponytail smashing against the roof of the car. Torrential rain slams against the metal ceiling, and Ed’s eyes glint in the deep blue shadows as he leans back against the steering wheel in order to work the buttons of Roy’s fly. 

“Edward, this is the worst idea either of us have had in a very long—”

“Two.” Ed skims his warm thumb along the revealed skin of Roy’s parted zipper, just above the strain of his cock against the thin cloth of his underwear. Roy shivers, and not from the cold; all the while wondering what happened to this man to shape him into a fledgling sex god and who does he have to kill for showing Ed just how to use his hands like this.

Roy bites back any embarrassing noise he may make, but his fingers digging into the meat of Ed’s parted thighs undoubtedly give him away as they lock eyes in the humid car. The windows are fogged white and the world is so very far away.

“If I don’t let you blow me does that mean the sex is entirely off the table or can the sex be negotiated upon in the interim until a better opportunity arises?”

“Three,” Ed says, and his smile is so dangerous, so knee-meltingly molten as he lofts himself off of Roy’s lap—

 _Shit_. Roy’s brain misfires and his hand is an absolute imposter as it surges forward and snatches the collar of Ed’s white shirt. Ed freezes, his left metal hand on Roy’s shoulder for balance, his right one on the steering wheel where he’d been pushing himself away. Roy realizes he’s already leaned across the invisible line dividing the car, holding Ed in place with a frankly embarrassing amount of desperation that he’ll perhaps find it in himself to regret later. 

Beneath the roar of the rain, Roy registers static in his ears, vaguely assessing that its adrenaline and blood rushing to his head—and elsewhere—as he swallows and clears his throat.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, low and gritty and so unlike his smooth, affected cadence he keeps so well-oiled. “I mean—”

“Chill out, Mustang,” Ed says, and how does he manage to sound so at ease when Roy is a coiled spring ready to snap and blind himself in the eye. Him and eyesight have been flirting with an altogether poor relationship in the past. “I can’t suck your dick while I’m on your damn lap, can I?”

“That would be,” Roy says, blinking one too one many times at Ed’s smug smirk. A too-familiar expression that Roy has had nothing to with, of course. “Quite the endeavor, even for your extraordinary flexibility. Speaking of dubious endeavors, allow me to once more remind you what a bad idea this is.”

“What a segue,” Ed says drily, still unmoving, his metal fingers flexing against Roy’s shoulder. He glances down, cracking a slow smile as he looks meaningfully to Roy’s fast hold upon his collar, then back up. The air is scorching hot, crackling with energy, and Roy doesn’t know who is heating up the space between them, but his own hands have been too busy to snap. “Listen. You’re great at multitasking—”

“May I have that in writing for future—”

“—so it shouldn’t be a problem for you to keep watch while I seal the deal.”

“And,” Roy says slowly, weighing every word as he makes a point to release Ed’s shirt and recline into his own seat like someone who isn’t actively in this very moment, on fire, “what exactly is this deal you’re referencing? I’m not yet acquainted with the finer details.”

“The deal is,” Ed says, leaning in with all the brazen confidence of someone who has learned exactly what his body can do, his lion eyes blazing with predatory intelligence, “I leave you physically, mentally, and emotionally unable to ignore me ever again. And then you make my teenage dreams come true. Sound good, _sir_?”

Roy is going to die tonight and for once he just might be amenable. 

“Oh,” Roy says with supreme cleverness, his entire body flushing hot and tight and coiled as he watches Ed ease onto all fours with lithe, animal grace, his face dropping out of sight as he bows his head to Roy’s lap and works at the fly and thick wool slacks with his flesh hand. “Do find comfort in the assurance that I am already there.”

“Maybe,” Ed says, his voice ungodly casual as he frees Roy’s cock with a soft sound of victory. “But I try to outdo myself when I can.”

With his breath a warm whisper across the aching head of Roy’s erection, Ed immediately takes it in his hot grip and gives an experimental pump, slow and loose and curious. Roy fails to bite back the groan as he fists both hands on the wheel like he’s driving himself straight to hell where he can live in debauchery and idleness forever.

Has Ed always been destined to be the end of him, or is this merely the beginning?

Roy has been in this position many times. Perhaps less so in a car, and certainly never on the job, but the physical mechanics are the same. So when Ed drags the flat of his slick tongue over the crown of Roy’s cock and hums like he’s just discovered something delicious before swallowing Roy down in a hungry slurp and a throaty choke, Roy can’t imagine how this can be so different from the rest that his skin feels half alight and his brain on the way to incineration. 

_Hell_. Yes, this is surely his body’s reaction to the downward plunge, because Roy is grappling the steering wheel with blind eyes wide and sightless on the storm-smeared windshield as he gasps for one stuttering breath and then the other. Ed’s mouth is working him over with the sloppy enthusiasm of pure enjoyment, his ass high and slightly swaying with each tight thrust of mouth over cock, and Roy finds himself reaching out. Sliding his palm up the back of Ed’s coat to where it has hiked up the small of his back to reveal the clean white shirt and the pewter clip of his suspenders. 

Roy flicks open the dull shine in the same moment that Ed has the audacity to spit into his palm and use it to strip the length of Roy’s erection, that clever mouth sucking and slathering messy attention over the swollen, weeping head. The suspenders snap back beneath Ed’s coat and Roy hisses his pleasure as he dives a hand down the back of Ed’s trousers, shucking back the tucked-in shirt in his journey to grip and grope the finest ass he’s never had the pleasure of touching.

The deep, dark moan Ed makes around his dick isn’t hell, it’s heaven, and it’s _scorching_. The thick, liquid pull of lust drags at Roy’s defenses, scarred warrior hands holding him in place against the seat, the cleverest mouth in this age of man lapping at his cock like honeyed confectionary before swallowing down tight and greedy and sure. Roy digs blunt nails into the flesh of Ed’s ass and knocks his skull back against the headrest once, twice, desperately trying not to fuck into Ed’s mouth like the heathen he knows he ever is. 

But then Ed drags his mouth from Roy with a wet pop and bolts up. His fingers tighten around the base of Roy’s dick as they lock eyes in the wet, humid dark, and Ed speaks in a voice raw and torn with lips swollen with sin.

“Choke me with it already, Roy.”

Words. Fucking. _Fail_ him.

Roy feels in black and red and gold, a vicious swell of something thunderous with desire and need rising up as he firmly grips that stubborn jaw and slips a slim thumb in that cocky mouth. Ed takes it almost gratefully, pale lashes fluttering but refusing to fall shut as he licks at the pad of the finger and scrapes his teeth over the sensitized skin with a smile like a lightning strike. 

With his other hand, Roy reaches for Ed’s high ponytail and eases away the tie. Like a waterfall, the wealth of Ed’s hair floods Roy’s hand, draping over strong shoulders and cascading down Ed’s back to sweep at his elbows. Roy forgets his lungs, forgets to breathe altogether as he sifts his fingers through the thick, luxurious strands.

And then Ed bites hard on Roy’s thumb and sprays sparks between them that has Roy’s cock hardening ever further in Ed’s merciless grip. Their eyes clash. The air is electric, high voltage.

“So choke on it, Edward,” Roy says, careful and steady in a dark, dark voice.

Ed’s generous mouth goes slack and something shifts in his eyes, deep amber pools blowing out black in the seconds before he bows for Roy anew. This time, they both moan in tandem as Ed eases Roy’s cock down his throat and Roy twists that luscious hair around his fist twice, using the leverage to bob Ed’s head up and down to the rhythm of Roy’s choice.

There’s no way it can last much longer. Ed’s metal hand is squeezing the seat so hard Roy can swear he hears the leather tear, and the sounds Ed is making are brazen, unbidden and so loudly lewd that Roy can’t focus, can’t function, can’t do anything but sink back into the seat with a hold on Ed’s hair and watch his dick disappear behind those stretched, swollen lips as errant tears of effort skim down Ed’s hollowed-out cheeks. 

“Ed,” Roy huffs out, grunting as he rolls his hips to the frantic fuck of Ed’s mouth, taking him deeper and sloppier, spit dripping down Ed’s hand to further slick his working palm. “Ed, I—you’re—”

The violent wash of pleasure shrieks through Roy like the tail end of fireworks, popping a shocking white and red behind his clenched eyes as he all but yells, fingertips digging into Ed’s scalp while Ed groans and swallows and licks and milks him through the tremors. Roy can’t recall the last time he came so hard, but his brain isn’t doing him any favors on any practical level right now, so he’ll let it go. 

Vaguely, he recognizes Ed tucking his face against the edge of Roy’s jaw to nip and bite, working his way up to Roy’s ear where a fresh spray of sparks shimmer through his system. Oh hell, Ed isn’t just beside him, he’s on Roy’s lap, both legs properly flung over Roy’s thighs, which is all kinds of wonderful, but no kinds of logical because Ed isn’t nearly as small as he used to be and this car size is not very forgiving. All the same, Roy hums in appreciation and drags a hand down the mussed front of Ed’s clothes to linger and palm between those strong, lithe thighs and powerful bulge between.

“Later,” Ed says, his voice still scraped up and sexier than Roy can have ever imagined in his own rather creative fantasies. “Remember the part about you being unable to forget me? I’m holding you to that. Consider my dick a rain check.”

“Undoubtedly the first time I’ve ever heard such a statement and very hopefully the last,” Roys says, lips faintly curved but his body still hot and flushed from the high alert of having such a package all willing and delectable upon his very lap. 

Ed laughs, throaty and full and easy and—

And Roy has missed him so much it hurts. Or, did hurt. Perhaps less so now.

Perhaps the ice age is truly over.


End file.
